Hand washing dishes may be an art!

I like to fill the sink with dirty dishes and then run it full of warm/hot water and put in a squirt of Ivory .  I can then plunge my hands into that and look out my back window at my domain while I wash the dishes, rinse them and put them in the drainer.  But my mind is never still and this morning it flashed back to Plevna and I heard Mrs. Crawford explaining the fine art of washing dishes correctly.

"Be sure that all the dishes are scraped and piled before you begin.  You will pile them in the order they are to be washed.  Glassware first, then silver, then plates, followed by the cooking utensils.  Each item will be rinsed in your tub of very hot water."

"Some times a bit of food will be stubborn and not come off when you whisk it with your dish cloth.  Do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to remove it with your finger nail.  Your hands are in the water and the nail is soft and you do not want to do damage to the nail. There is a wire scratcher that comes in handy for removal of stubborn things that do not want to be removed.  You will want to keep your hands lovely and soft for your husband, so when you are finished with the dishes and the sink is clean and dry, apply a little lotion and rub in in well."

Do I need to interject here that I failed Home Economics under the able tuteledge of Mrs. Crawford?  Now when I say failed I do not mean C or D but a big Red F.

I can still see her in my minds eye standing in the home economics room in her skirt and jacket with every hair in place pointing to the sink and the dish drainer as if they were the most important items on earth.  I actually grew up believing that man was superior and I must do all I could to please one of these creatures if I ever was lucky enough to catch one.  I had a helluva lot to learn back in those days!

At the end of the semester my grandma passed away and I was returned to Nickerson and enrolled in Home Economics where Miss Irvin was my teacher.  Here I attempted to learn how to make a simple dress.  As I recall mother bought me the required pattern in the size I needed and cotton fabric that was white with small blue flowers.  And thus that exercise I futility began.  We measured each other to get the proper measurements.  And then it was time to cut the pattern and pin the darts for the chest area.  Well, until I was 16 years old, I never had a sign of a boob, so darts were pretty well wasted on me, but nonetheless, there would be darts because as sure as there was a God in heaven, I would develop before that dress wore out!  Not sure that happened though.

After 4 1/2 months of cutting, ripping, stitching, and crying, the dress was finished.  The darts in the chest were perfect, but there was nothing there to hold them out for the world to see.  My sewing career was finished and Miss Irvin gave me a final grade.  Seems I had been a very difficult student.  I had not listened and I was disrespectful with all that crying.  You guessed it.  A big RED F.

Now, after a full year of schooling on how to cook, clean and sew for my man, I walked away empty handed!  My life was over as far as my mother was concerned.  I would never catch a man.  Even grandma kept telling me things like "Where spider webs grow, no beau ever goes."  The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."  And more crap like that. 

So I finished high school and began life in the real world.  My first marriage lasted 10 years and produced 5 kids.  After a string of husbands I finally found one that understood all I needed was stability.  I do not think my cleaning and cooking skills were ever on any of the divorce papers. 

What is the most amazing part of this whole thing is that I am now an excellent seamstress.  I have a sewing room to die for and am the proud owner of 5 sergers,  5 sewing machines, a machine quilter and a 6 needle embroidery machine, all of which make me money. 

I raised my kids on money I made as a short order cook, a dinner cook, a caterer, and personal orders as needed.  I baked and  decorated wedding cakes while I was at the Red Carpet.

Sorry, Mrs. Crawford and Miss Irvin!  I know you tried, but I am just one of those people that have to learn the hard way.

Isn't it amazing how I can get off track?  Guess I was not meant to be a writer.  Oh, wait a minute!  I am a writer!!

Damned old age!

So when bedtime comes around here I start turning out lights and then head into the bathroom to hop into my jammies.  Elvira always manages to get in before I close the door. Elvira is the little furry cream colored one.  She waits patiently while I change clothes and then we go into the bedroom.  Icarus gets her treat up on the dresser.  She gets 5 pieces cause they are small.

Then I give Daisy her milk bone and then Elvira.  This is the order of the pack.  There always has to be an alpha and that is me, whether they like it or not.  Then comes Daisy because she was the first dog.  Elvira is the baby, but she may be the oldest.  But the pecking order remains the same.  It never varies.  At no time am I ever left alone.  When I am on the computer I have a cat on my lap and a dog at my feet.  If I nap in my recliner I have a cat on one side, a dog on the other and the other dog is under my foot rest.  When I go to close the geese up at night, I am accompanied my my trio.  Some times Elvira is tired and waits in the house.  Are you getting the picture?  My animals love me and I in turn, love them.

Of course there are times I need to go do errands and they can not go.  At those times they set in a row and watch me go out the door.  They know I will be back and I know they will be there.  And homecoming is always the same.  They are so happy to see me that I feel guilty for leaving them.  Daisy is the most insecure as she is always first to greet me and there are not enough pets to calm her.

As I was driving in to town yesterday, I was thinking about my menagerie.  And then I was jolted to reality by the memory of a stray dog on South Road.  I thought how many people get dogs and tie them outside.  I pictured myself as a dog in that postition.  

I could see my humans inside the warm house.  I could see them eating and drinking and laughing, and I could see myself alone.  Alone and cold.  No warm food for me.  No one to hold me close.  The ground is cold and my water is frozen.  Maybe they forgot about me.  I barked to remind them I was there and the man just opened the door and threw something at me.  All I wanted was a little attention.  Why did they bring me here?  If they did not want me to be part of the family, why didn't they just leave me at the pound?  At least there I had hope.  Here I have nothing.  There is nothing I can do.  I have an old rug, but no house.  I can not even run away because I have a chain holding me to a tree.

Of course I had to  set there and bawl about it, but what can I do?  I am not sure that it was even about dogs.  It rather parallels life, doesn't it?  Once I was young and vital and active, but now I am slowing down, much like the old dog in the yard.  But whatever it is , I do hope if you are reading this and you have a dog and he is tied outside that you will bring him inside.  It is cold and why do you want an animal if you aren't going to love it and keep it warm.? Take it back to the pound.  Of course it will no doubt end up being euthanized, but at least that is quicker than the slow painful reality of living on the end of a chain.

Don't know why I am on this trip tonight.  I suppose we all go through this when we get older and lose someone.  It makes us face out own mortality and I face mine in the guise of a dog.  So guess I will go to bed.  Tomorrow is another day.

15 degrees below zero.

32 years ago today it was 15 degrees below zero.  Bet you wonder how I can remember that and still not remember where I put those car keys 30 minutes ago!  Very simple.  32 years ago I was living with a man named Kenneth Mercer.  We had discussed marriage, but this time I really wanted to be sure, as did he, that it was meant to be.  He was replacing the drive line in one of the tandem dump trucks we owned.  When he went to Pueblo Brake and Clutch to pick up the repaired part they were closed.  It was thier Christmas party as I recall.  So he came home.

He told me he could not finish the truck and so we might as well go to Canon City and "get this shittin' mess over with.".  Now what woman in her right mind could turn down a proposal like that?  So off we went and to make a long story short, we got our license and then sought a minister or someone who could do the deed.  I do not recall his name, but he and his wife were in the senior housing close to the court house.  He mumbled a few words, caught a woman in the hall to be  a witness and then had his wife, who was in the bed in the next room, sign as the second witness.  Kenneth paid him $20.00 and we left to go have our wedding supper which was a donut at the donut house since neither of us were very hungry.

And thus began a friendship that would span 20 years until his death in 2003.  Funny how life leads us in one direction and then another, isn't it?  We were a very unlikely couple, but our wants and needs seemed compatible.  His kids were grown and gone and I had 2 still at home.  Mine did not need a father, but he filled the position as an adult male companion.  It worked well.

I will not attempt to describe our life together.  Suffice it to say when I became a widow at the tender age of 62,  I thought about returning to Kansas.  But, by that time Colorado was my home.  I do entertain ideas of "going back" especially when things happen like losing my sister this week.  Someday I may, but not now.  For now Pueblo is my refuge.  My port in the storm.  My anchor in life's ocean.

One of my friends was by today, but  I never mentioned the anniversary.  An anniversary just marks a point in time that something happened.  Like a dot on the timeline of life.  So as I pack to go bury my sister, I just note that the temperature right now is 43 degrees.  That is a difference of 58 degrees.

And life goes on.

Nickerson revisited.

Here you have it.  Strong Street.  Unfortunately 709 North Strong Street no longer exists.  The fences, barn and out buildings are not there.  Neither is the cactus in the front yard, or the Catalpa trees we climbed or the shed where my Dennis calf died or the chicken house.  The out house collapsed years ago.  What is there now is a double wide trailer house.  Reinke's house is gone as is Jake Smith's the Ayer's and Goodricks.  Hank Windiate's house is there but it has been added on to and painted.  All vestiges of my growing up years are turned to dust and blown away.  So on to the cemetery.

Even the sign out here is new.  I could not see which tree my kite was tangled in so we headed over towards the Ailmore place.  That was not there either.  Just more trailers.  I did not know there were that many trailers in Reno County.  Main Street was deserted and looked like a ghost town with the empty, decaying buildings.  Berridge Grocery seemed to be doing a thriving businesss, but nothing else.  I forgot the card for my camera so I was at the mercy of Karen and Donna and nothing I saw was really worth the effort.  We did get to the Stroh place though. I think the house has been updated and I do not remember so many trees.

This is the drive going up and the house is tucked in the trees.  The barn is off to the right.  It is much as I remembered it, but sadly it is not going to be standing much longer if you look at this close up.

That is sad because it was very majestic in it's hay day!  I know we had a big yellow tomcat when we lived there because it ate one of momma's baby chicks.

Well, my friends, it has been a long 3 days and I am very tired tonight.  I need to get some stuff done so I can take the drive to Hutchinson again next weekend.  December is a sad time of year for me, but Christmas is coming.  If I do not see you between now and then, Merry Christmas and a very Happy and Prosperous New Year.

NAMASTE!

Family ties.

And here I am in Kansas.   Right now I am in the room with my sister,  Dorothy at the Hospice House.  We are awaiting the inevitable harbinger.  Then there will be 2 of us.  This is not something I am looking forward to, but it is what it is, nonetheless.
There are a few places I want to visit while I am here, if time permits.  I want to go back to Strong Street.  Donna tells me the only house left standing there is Hank Wingates.  That is hard to imagine as his was the one I would have placed bets on being the first to fall.
 I want to drive to the cemetary which was located about half a mile from our house.  I remember when I was very young having a kite and the wind pulled the string from my hand and the kite ended up caught in a tree.  How sad I was to see it bucking on the end of the string trying to escape.  I slept very little that night and when morning came, I raced to the cemetery to find it crushed and broken in the field with the string held tightly by the relentless tree.
I want to go out the highway to Bull Creek.  That us past Athey's Sandpit.  It used to be a bridge over it, but now I think it is just a trickle.  I want to walk through the field and see if the old swimming hole is still there where Jake and his pals used to swim while I fished for turtles up on the road.  I think they might have swum nekkid!
I want to go see if the Stroh place is still standing.  That is where my memories of life began.  That was where Donna had the turtle stuck on her finger.  That is where we played in the mud holes and Josephine almost beat us to death.  That is where mother pumped cold water over our heads as she washed our hair under the pump in the kitchen.  I swear that woman had 6 arms since she would tuck me under her arm, hold me with her other hand,  wash and rinse my hair with a hand while pumping furiously with yet another hand.
It was also where Dorothy was born.  I must have been about 6.  As I recall, I did not much like her and I was pretty sure we did not need a baby and yet there she was.  I am kind of anxious to see if I really remember accurately or not.
Since I began writing thiis  earlier today my little sister has passed.   So now there are 2 of us left out of 6.  Tomorrow Donna and I will take a trip to Nickerson.   A walk down memory.  I will let you know how that goes, but for now I am just very tired.

DOROTHY ANDERSON
August 20, 1947
December 19, 2015

Once upon a time....

 Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman, who married a very handsome man.  They planned on living happily ever after.  The beautiful woman had already been married once and brought a daughter to the union.  Her name was Josephine Ann Walden.

                                             

After a time they had a son.  That would be Delbert Leroy (Jake ) Bartholomew.  Jake would grow up to be my best friend.

In 1941 a beautiful daughter was born.  Her name was Louella Beth Bartholomew.  She was named after the mother of the handsome man and the sister in law of the beautiful woman.  She would grow up to be ME!!!

Years would pass and more children were born, all girls.  The man died.  The son died.  And this is who was left.

Top row from left.  Louella, Mother Christine, Josephine

Bottom row: Mary, Donna, Dorothy.

And since this picture was taken, Mother (Christine Josephine Haas) has passed.  Also Josephine Ann Flora, and Mary Belle Shea.  Dorothy Mae Anderson, is transitioning as I write.  That will just leave Donna Faye Bartholomew , and me Louella Beth Mercer.  And that is why I am putting my thoughts together today. 

To anyone I wronged, I apologize.  To the people I never got around to helping, I am sorry;  for those that I did help, pay it forward.

I want to tell all my friends that I love them, in case I do not remember to say it next time. To those who loved me and forgot to tell me or meant to come for a visit, but didn't get around to it, I realize life got in the way as it did from my side of town. 

I want to tell my family, that while I may be far away, you are never far from my mind and I love you all from the bosom of my mother to the three times removed nieces and cousins. 

I am sorry I never knew my fathers family. 

As for my immortal soul, I am good to go and rather looking forward to the trip!  This world was not  my home, I was only passing through, to coin an old country western hymn.  I hope you are all better for having known me, and I know I learned from you.  I am pretty sure God is going to let me peek in on you from time to time and I hope you are as happy about this as I will be.  And when your time comes I will meet you at the gate and show you around!  Until then.......

Once upon a time there was a little girl.

Freezing weather, candlelight, and the barn?

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, I hear.  I spend a lot of time trying to figure mine out, but I have decided it is best to just go with what pops into it from time to time.  Take last night, for instance.  I heard about a candlelight vigil at the River walk in honor of the policeman and 2 civilians who died in the fiasco at Planned Parenthood in Colorado Springs.  It was advertised as unsponsored which told me it was a gathering of the community.  As it turned out, it was a photo op for a church that shall remain nameless, but that is all beside the point.  It seemed like a worthy endeavor, so I bundled up with 2 of everything on my frail little body and away I went!

Of course I went early since that is what I do.  My friend Janet showed up and we lit our candles, sung hymns, said a prayer or two.  Since all the cameras were finished rolling the leaders decided not to walk to the police station so we were dismissed.  Janet and I made a stop at Coyote Jack's store on Union where he made us a cup of hot cocoa.  (You will be hearing more about him in a later blog.)  I dropped her at her car and headed home.

I decided to take South Road even if it was icy and deserted and wild animals hang out there and jump in front of the car.  I just like to avoid traffic when I can and South Road was surreal with a soft snow falling.  For some reason, my mind wandered back to the barn on the Stroh place where we lived when I was probably 6 or 7 years old.  As I recall you came up the driveway to the house.  There was a detached garage to the right side where the kitchen was located.  Further to the right was a granary and a chicken house.  And closing the circle going back to the drive was the barn with a long low loafing shed(?).  I think that is what it is called.  But the barn was prominent.

Bear in mind that this memory is 68 years ago and much has been through this old brain, but as I recall I stepped into the barn through an oversized door that barns have.  On my right was a big wooden barrel.  Inside it was grain.  Directly in front of me was a stall for a cow to stand and her head was placed between two boards to hold her in place for milking. This was called a stanchion.   A pitch fork full of hay was put in the manger and she could eat while she was being milked.  Now milking was an art in itself.  The milking stool was a board with 1 leg.  The "milker"sat balanced on that while milking.  Now let me see if I remember that process!

First you placed the bucket under the udder.  Then you got yourself balance of the "stool".  Then you grasped a teat with thumb and forefinger where it protruded from the udder and  applied pressure as you "stripped" down to the end of the teat.  I know this is not sounding like anything is going to happen, but it does.  I am probably not your best source of "how to milk a cow not using a machine", but it does work and the milk squirts into the bucket, except some where in the process (and do not miss a beat or the cow will "hold her milk") you need to aim at the cat dish and fill it up because they are hungry.  Barn cats are profuse in a barn and necessary to keep the mice thinned out so they do not get in the grain.  Barn cats are that only.  They are not for petting or holding.  Most of them would just as soon rip your face off as look at you and you learn to respect their territory.  Come in, milk the cow, fill their dish and leave.   I think these are known as feral cats today.  And ever so often a disease goes through the colony and they all die, but be patient and more will magically appear.

There were several stalls for milking, but as I recall we only used the one and only had one milk cow at a time.  There was a hayloft up above that we were not supposed to go into because we might fall and break our neck, which, according to folk lore, happened a lot.  There were rooms in the back where the other cows (and God only knows what purpose they served) and the one horse could hang out when a blizzard was coming.  And in the spring we had to walk the fields and pull up poison weeds and burn them. 

The low part of the barn was used for whatever it needed to be used for at the time.  As I recall mother had geese and as I recall they were damned mean!  If I strayed (and I did once) into their domain the big gander would attack me and I had to be saved.  This is strange because I have 9 geese out back that love me.  They have never attacked me and 3 of them let me pet them.  I think that gander was just plain mean for the fun of it.

So this is what I thought about on the way home last night.  If I could live my life in reverse I would go back to that place.  It was where Donna stuck her finger in a turtles mouth and John Britan said it would not let go until the sun went down.  It was where Mary set in the mud puddle and Dorothy was born.  It was my brother in overalls and my sister got her first pair of glasses.  It was the big yellow tomcat eating the baby chick.  It was mother going to "club" and dad coming home drunk.  It was my childhood and my roots.  I want to go back there next summer and see if that house is there.  I want to listen and maybe here the kids at play.  Back to the days when someone took care of me.  When I was cute and loved.  Or at least that is how I remember it.

The ghosts of the past are alive and well!

I woke up at 4:15 this morning and was very surprised that I had a guy on my mind from my distant past.  Now I mean my way back there distant past.  My first boyfriend.  I was 17 years old and I thought the sun rose and set in that boy.  He took me to Joyland in Wichita one sunny afternoon.  We rode all the rides and when we got on the Roundup, my stomach had it's limit.  His name was Corky and he was so sweet and concerned about my welfare.  Throwing up on the Roundup was the high point of the day and we left soon after that.  We continued to for a while and then sort of drifted apart.  It was never a big romance, just a very comfortable relationship with some one with whom I could share my  hopes and dreams.

Years passed and I married and had a family.  I ended up in Garden City, Kansas.  When that marriage went south, I returned to Hutchinson.  There I met the second man in my life who would offer me comfort in a storm and ask nothing in return.  His name was Gib.  We never really dated so much as sort of hung out together.  He was a friend of my mom's.  He was also a cook and I was a waitress until I became a cook also.  He helped shop for Christmas Santa Claus gifts and helped put the things together on Christmas Eve.  He was engaged to a girl named Cheri, but though they lived together, they never married.  I never understood their relationship.  He and I were friends, but he and Cheri had something, and yet nothing.

The one thing both these guys and I had in common was that the relationships were purely platonic.  I never expected more and they never asked for more.  I can search the world over and never find 2 men that made such an impact on my life!  Ah, but hindsight is always clearer then foresight, isn't it?

Years passed and the AIDS epidemic reared it's ugly head.  Gib moved to California.  He died there.   I was in Pueblo by then.  Mother called and said Gib wanted to get together over Thanksgiving that year, but she was afraid.  I told her I could  and would love to come and see Gib.  I was not afraid.  I just wanted to see my old friend.  Plans were made, but he did not make it.  I know there was no funeral and he is in an unmarked grave.  I still miss him.  The very first panel on my AIDS Memorial Quilt is for Gilbert Fields.

I learned later that Corky had also passed.  He was also a statistic in the early stages of the epidemic.  Jimmy came later.  And Mark.  And Mike.  And a list that goes on and on and on.  I have always had a rapport with the gay community, even before I knew there was a gay community!  They have been my friends when I had no friends.  They held me up when I could have sunk beneath the waves.

I have no idea why these two guys are on my mind today, but there they are.  I just wanted to share with you, my readers, a small glimpse into my past so you can maybe understand why I am who I am today and why I do the things I do.  I guess I am trying to give back to the community that cared for me when I did not care for myself.

Wouldn't it be nice if it was this easy?

I believe in Jesus Christ and accepted him as my PERSONAL LORD AND SAVIOR . One Facebooker has challenged all believers to put this on their wall. In The Bible it says, if you deny me in front of your peers, I'll deny you in front my father at the Gates of Heaven. This is simple. If you love God, and you are not afraid to show it re-post. Just copy and paste this.

Found this on facebook.  Well, I actually find one like this on facebook every time I scroll through.  Actually I find several of these daily and I have now come to the conclusion that this is why my church, and many like it, are down in the attendance area.  If I love Jesus all I have to do is copy and paste this, because Jesus has a facebook account and he reads this stuff.  It works much like the letter to Santa.  If I be good and send a letter to Santa and tell him I have been good, he will bring me lots of presents.  I can ask for whatever and I will get it.  I do not even need to have a witness that I have been good, because by simply writing that letter I qualify.

And I know facebook is a venue for God, because so many people post these, but let me tell you a secret.  I have gone to their "friend list" and I can not find Jesus on there!  That troubles me.  If Jesus is not on their friend list, how can they claim him for their friend and better yet, how can they offer me salvation by me just clicking a button?   Since I am such a sceptic in this area, I think I will just skim over those posts.  

I am going to take my chances out in the real world and in my church on Sunday morning.  I like to commune with God when walking up a trail in Beulah, or around Runyon Lake.  I like to visit my friends in Hospice and smile at people in the grocery store.  I like to gather things for Los Pobres, and the Goodwill and sad little people on the corner.  With a little luck God may look down when I am playing with a puppy and say,  "Hey, she looks like she would make a good addition to my kingdom!"  

Sure hoping so any way.  So you go ahead and try it your way, but please do not try to make be beleive  that I have to share your post or I am going to hell.

Rest in Peace always.

Delbert Leroy Bartholomew

(Jake)

October 5, 1937-October 31, 1965

Frozen forever in time.

He taught me to love conutry music.

He taught me to fish.

He taught me patience.

He was my brother.

Brothers never die.

Saurkraut time? Oh, yeah!

Fall is in the air and I kicked the furnace on last night.  This morning I am setting here freezing with shoes, flannel pajamas, and a sweater.  Course a hot cup of coffee rounds out the picture.  I used to have a cigarette and an ashtray, but those days are long gone.  So what am I planning for today?  Going to be a busy one!

First I am off to breakfast with Kay and Frank who are getting ready to leave soon for the balmy breezes in Southern Texas.  As soon as breakfast is over I am headed for the produce stand up the road.  I think I am good on green chile's, but I will check that.  My goal for today is to find the good white cabbage and dig the crock out of the tin shed.  Yep!  You guessed it!  It is time to make sauerkraut!  I shall tote my cabbage home and begin the process.

I will wash and scald the 5 gallon crock.  Then I will dig out the mandolin that I inherited from Sherman.   With everything now in place I will begin by cutting each head in 6-8 wedges, depending on the size of the head, and begin the slicing process.  I want the slices uniform and very thin.  I have a big white plastic Tupperware container and when there is about 6 inches of cabbage in it I will sprinkle it with a heaping tablespoon of canning salt.  Next comes the tedious part.  I take my fist and work and mash the salt into the cabbage, bruising it and causing it to release juice.  When I have worked it enough that it starts to be a tad bit soupy (no way to tell you, just got to feel it) I will put it in the crock.

Now, I don't know it you have ever done this, but after a while my knuckles begin to get very tender and by the time the crock is half full I begin to wonder what in the hell I was thinking, so I take a break.  And then I remember what this is all about.  I love sauerkraut!  I do not love the stuff at the store in cans.  I do not love the stuff at the store in the refrigerated part either.  I love sauerkraut that is made with cabbage and salt and covered with a clean cheese cloth that is weighted down with a brick in my basement.

Oh, trust me, in about 2 weeks this big old house is going to stink to high heaven of rotten cabbage.  I will have to check it daily and remove anything that looks like it does not belong there, but in about 2 - 3 months, I will have the best sauerkraut in the world!  It is a lot of work, but worth every minute of it.  My knuckles will heal in due time and by then it will have stopped "working" and it will be time to process it.  This entails bagging it in my "seal a meal" bags and freezing it for future use.

I do not ever remember mother or anyone else making saurekraut, but somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I know what has to be done.  When Bret and Shelley were little I was fixing lunch for them and I made hot dogs.  I asked if they wanted the hotdogs cooked in with the saurkraut.  When Shelley asked what saurekraut was, Bret replied, "It is rotten cabbage."  As I recall that was the end of the discussion, but they did eat it.

Now, those of you who know me, know how many people live in my house and of all those people, only one eats saurekraut and that is me!  I may be considered an eccentric old woman going to all this work, but the way I got it figured is this:  I am only going around once.  Just once.  I am going to dance naked when I feel like it, howl at the moon, and eat what I want, which at this time of year is sauerkraut!  So if you want to smell rotten cabbage, come on over!  If not then don't, but it is Fall here in Pueblo, Colorado and Spring is a long way in the future, so I am going to be a little squirrley and put away my food for the Winter!

The ruler of the roost is now bringing this old lady to her knees!

If you wonder who this is, it is Icarus.  I have had her for 4+ years.  She was named by Sherman and I told him Icarus was the little fellow in Greek (?) Mythology that flew too close to the sun and melted HIS wings, but she was name Icarus nonetheless!  As you can see, she makes herself right at home wherever she is.  It is quite alright with her if I have to set on the hard chair as long as her hairy little self if comfy!

She is very much at ease with the dogs, as you can see!  She likes to go out in the evening when I close the goose house.  She hides behind the trash barrel and leaps out at the dogs when they go past headed for the house.

This is bedtime.  5 kitty treats on the dresser for Icarus and a milkbone for each dog.  Old picture since I still  had carpet, but the routine is still the same. 

Looks like Daisy might have started smoking in this picture.

Elvira is just naturally a lady.

But back to the subject at hand.

Happy Birthday to me!

Well, I survived another year.  But is that good or bad?  Yesterday marked 74 years that I have been riding this big blue ball around.  I know I have good company in the form or Stephen Smalley, my cousin and my friend Mary Lou Abernathy, who I never see, and countless others that slip my mind.  All the kids checked in along with a mailbox full of cards from the dentist, insurance company, and the hearing aid place who recognizes every important moment of my life and assures me they are there to help me hear all the best wishes anytime I am ready to fork over the $4,000!  Ah, life!
I do like to look back at how far I have come from that little shack on the outskirts of Nickerson, Kansas.  That is where a mother and father made a home for 6 little Bartholomew kids.  Now there are 3 of us left.

Here I am on probably the last day that I was purely innocent.  The last day that I was completely helpless and I wonder where that blanket went!  I bet one of the younger kids got it as a handmedown, because back in those days, everything was handed down to the next kid.  Now do you realize that I got the handmedowns from my brother!

Doesn't look like he is wearing dresses, does it?  As a young girl I remember worshipping him my whole life.  We listened to the Grand Ole' Opry from Nashville, Tennesee on a car radio hooked up to a battery out on the porch on Saturday nights.  He is the one who taught me how to bait a hook and catch a fish.  He taught me how to choose the hardest clod of dirt in a plowed field and how to aim so I could hit someone in our clod fights.  He built me stilts which I fell off of and damn near broke my neck!  He dreamed of leaving Nickerson and coming back rich.  When he was 16 years old he forged his birth certificate and joined the Army.  Of course, he got caught and sent back home.

His name was Delbert Leroy Bartholomew, but in the 7th grade he became known as Shakey Jake.  That was later shortened to Jake because he did not shake.  He wore overalls and was befriended by a man in town named Roy Hasten.  Roy was an older man who had no kids and loved to fish.  I can remember him bringing Jake home and they always had catfish laid out in the back.  Some of them were really big, or at least big to my little memory.  When I hear the song "Bimbo" by Hank Williams, I think of Jake.

There is not enough paper in this world to hold all my memories of Jake.  I told you how he got that scar.  He did go away to the Army and he came home from Germany.  He married and had a son, divorced and had another son.  His second son and mine are almost the same age.  My father died in February of 1965 and Jake was killed that October.  My son was 1 month old.

10/5/37-10/31/1965

This was Mother.  I wonder if she remembered that dog?  Seems when we were growing up there was always an old cat hanging around outside, but never a dog.  Not sure I ever wanted one, but I am sure we never had one.  Dad did not like dogs.  I was always afraid of them.  There were always stories of "dogs running in packs on the outskirts of town, so be sure and keep the kids inside."  Never saw them, but like the Gypsy's (who I also never seen), we knew they were there and had to be ever vigilant.   Oh, yeah, and the cougars!  We could hear them scream down on the river and trust me, that scared the living shit right out of us.  Sure made me appreciate a home with doors.  Not that we ever locked them.  Doors had to remain unlocked in case a hobo or some homeless person needed to get in to get a drink of water or a bite to eat.  Times have sure changed.

So now I am rambling again!  I had one birthday party when I was growing up.  It was for my 8th or 9th birthday.  Mother was cleaning houses for my cousin Paralee Morris who was a teacher and was married to a teacher, so they were rich.  Paralee was the daughter of Frank and Helen Wocknitz.  Frank was the one who made Tony's Bologna and took the recipe to his grave.  She let mother make me a little party at her house and gave me a red Cinderella cookie cutter.  Birthday parties are just not a biggie with me.

(You must understand that all this stuff that I remember from 65 years ago may or may not be accurate and may change every time I remember it as well as every time you read it.  So it is best if you just read what I write and enjoy it and not try to make any sense whatsoever out of my poor befuddled mind!)

Enough about the birthday!  Fall is in the air this morning and I want to check the garden.  For some reason I would sure like to have a cigarette this morning, but I am always grateful when I realize that I gave those up.  That was a good change.  And change is what life is all about, isn't it?

Continued from yesterday.

Here is Icarus looking all innocent.  Such a joy to behold.  But think again!

This is where she was just about 10 minutes ago.  This is the cover over my deck and I do not know how she got up there.  Nor do I know why!  Pretty sure there are no mice on top of that thing.

So just walking around looking for lord only knows what.

Oh, hi there mom!  What are you doing down there.  Come on up and let's try to figure out how to get down.  Oh, you could just trot on out to the garage and bring the ladder and then carry me down.

Enjoy me while you can because I am getting ready to go hide in the sunflowers.

Told you so!

Oh, well, one thing nice is if she is hiding or up on the roof she is not batting vernin around the kitchen.  Don't you wish you had a cat like this?  If you have a cat, it probably IS like this!

Meet my REAL honey!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday my friend and I drove to La Junta to buy our tickets for the Amtrak train that would take us to Dallas, Texas next month.  Both of her grandfather's were railroad men back in the day when the rail way was the way to move freight.  The office is only open from 7:30 AM until 10 AM so we were on a mission.  This is the ticket window and the lady in charge was the sweetest little thing and a great help to us.  However we soon found that this was not going to be as easy as it first looked.

The train does not run from here to Dallas.  It runs from La Junta to Kansas City, down to St. Louis and then     down to Fort Worth  area where we could catch a bus on into Dallas.  Oh and this takes 2 days.  There are several 5 hour delays for another train to arrive to take us further on our way.  Now spending 5-6 hours in a train depot is just not on my agenda.  And no where in this scenario did I see any hope of putting this body into a bed  and sleeping the 8 hours I require.  Of course we could take the southern route through southern California and it would add a few hours.  Sadly the lower level has the restrooms and the upper level has the food.  Screwed either way as I see it.  Oh, yeah and then there was the cost of the tickets. $715.00 each.  So $1430.00 and no food included.  Let's just think this over.  Course Nancy is all for hopping on an airplane and arriving in Dallas in no time at all.   Well, it is a thought.  Or we could ride the train to Albuquerque and then rent a car and drive to Dallas.  So we headed home to think on it.

I missed a call outside of Rocky Ford, so I pulled over to return it and up the train track came the train hauling the propeller's for the wind turbines from Pueblo.  Had to get a picture of that.  We are both fascinated by those things. 

 

Well, lookee here, where we stopped!  Since we were right in the parking lot and the sign said "Local Honey.  Come on in!"  We did!

Bet money there is something in here I need!

Look at the size of the honey tank.  I think we figured it holds at least 400 gallons.  Hell, that was yesterday and you know I don't write anything down!  And if I do I do not remember where I put it.  So just go with the 400 gallons like you believe me!

And I was right.  There was stuff there I needed.  Nancy needed stuff also.  Oh, and trust me, this is some damn good honey!  First I had a taste on my finger.  Then I had a taste on a spoon.  Then I had a big taste on a biscuit.  Then another biscuit.  

Nice sign.

Nice flags.

But this is the one I like.  It is a nest from somewhere made by bees and I think they call it a paper wasp nest.  Glad it is empty!

So, we bid farewell to the local honey place on this side of Rocky Ford and  head for home so I can do whatever it is I do.  

Had a lovely day, as always and enjoyed a nice lunch in Fowler before dropping Nancy and heading for the grocery store to seek out Celery Root so I can make some Dill Pickle soup.  Tell you about that one next time!

Jimmy Carter, a man of the people.

I have always felt Jimmy Carter and I had a link since we were both born on October 1, albeit 17 years apart.  Same zodiac and all that, you know.  Libra which is the scales.  According to a site on the Internet  called "getsmarter.com" that I am quoting  "Typical Libras are talkative individuals who value fairness, beauty, culture, diplomacy and balance, states Astrology.com. They're also deep thinkers who like to spend time contemplating harmony and strategizing about things which they feel impassioned."

Jimmy Carter came on the scene while we were still reeling from Richard Nixon, Watergate, Gerald Ford and a financial crisis like never before seen.  Ford had fairly well stabilized the nation, but we were looking for an honest face to put forward and who better than a peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia?  He walked to the White House and we all knew we had a down to earth country boy in power.  One month later he was white headed!  The real world was upon him.  But he tried.  His time in office was one of good will and the only fault they could find with him was that in an interview he had stated that he may have committed adultery "in his heart", because to look at a woman with lust in his heart was to commit adultery in his heart.  We have come a long way since then!

The Carter years were, in my opinion, years of innocence and hope for the future.  As I recall President Carter did not do a lot to change the world during his 4 years, but he was honest and a very religious man.  There was never any doubt that he was a God fearing man.  And when he left office he immediately went into public service.  One of his favorites was Habitat for Humanity.  In that he worked tirelessly.  There are so many things he did that showed God in his life.  I am ill equipped to find words that do justice to this man who has battled cancer for many years and never stopped his hammer.  It is a way of life with him.

There is one man who impressed me with an article he wrote about Jimmy Carter.  His name is Leonard Pitts, Jr. and he writes for the Miami Herald.  He was kind enough to let me share his link with you so you can read what he wrote.  I thank him for that! He is so much better at expressing my feelings than I am!     Click here for Leonard Pitts, Jr. article.

Home on the range.

This is my garage from the backside of the property.  Looks rather peaceful if I do say so myself.

This is Icarus surveying her kingdom  

Her kingdom includes these geese.  They are supposed to be mean, but they do not know it.  I can actually pet most of these.  Only one likes it though.

These are sunflowers behind the garage.  There are very tiny birds that inhabit these and eat something off them.  I think it might be ants since that is all I have seen on them, but I suppose mosquitoes also might be on them. Sunflowers always make me think of Kansas and thinking of  Kansas always makes me a little homesick.  I do not know why because there is no way I could ever go back to the little house on Strong Street.  And if I could, those were days of abject poverty that I would never wish on anyone.  Of course they were part of what made me who I am today, so it is all good.  

I thought I might ought to burn the pile of limbs from the Apricot tree, so I called in and lit the pile.

Whoops, better go take care of that little wound.

 So I finish my morning  having a cup of coffee on the deck.  Life is sure good here on my little acre.  I know sometimes I don't sound like it, but I do love my life.  Gets to be a lot of work sometimes, but isn't that what life is all about?  Put one foot in front of the other and just keep plodding away.

So from my house to yours, and my heart to your heart, keep the faith because God really is good and he does have a plan for us.  It may not look like it at times and it may not feet like it most of the time, but he does have you and me brother, in his hands.

click here to listen

And who will eat my cinnamon rolls, asked the little red hen.

I woke up this morning in my usual why in the hell bother mood this morning.  First I made a batch of cinnamon rolls just because.  Then I checked out facebook and found the usual drama and who gives a damn anyway.  Then I pulled on some rattier than usual clothes and headed out back to drag the limb from the Apricot tree to the back to burn.  I remembered how the limb got on the ground.  I cut it with my little bow saw.  Oh, I had lots of friends who were going to do it.  Sure, it was no problem.  But in the meantime it kept rubbing on the gutter and the roof.  So I cut it and let it fall.  And there it lay.  Until now.    
Now it is in the back to be destroyed.  Of course my mind was working all the time my body was dragging those heavy limbs and I did sustain 5 new wounds in my leg and a really big one in my arm, which did not help my mood at all.

I have set a date of September 30 as some of you know, but few know what it means.  I will now tell you.  October 1 is my birthday.  I will be 74 years old.  I have spent the first half of my life doing for others in one way or another.  I have been a wife, mother, friend, confidante and whipping post.  I have cooked, cleaned, listened, wept, laughed, and sacrificed for anyone who asked.  I have loaned or given away a small fortune to anyone who needed it for what ever reason.  I asked nothing in return.  And usually that was what I got.

I know in order for me to live the last half of my life doing for myself, I will need to live to be 146 years old and we all know there is not much chance of that happening, but I am going to give it one helluva shot.  If not in a blaze then at least I am going to remember to thank every body for all they did for me.   I have a few minutes before I have to be through the shower and in to town, so I shall do that now.

To the men in my life who unloaded goose food out of the back of my car over the last 12 years, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.
To the kind soul who mowed my grass on this acre of greenery, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.
To the people who shovel my walk in the winter and break the ice on the pond out back, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.
To the people who eat my cinnamon rolls and then help clean up the kitchen, thank you.  Oh, wait!  Never mind, that was me.

To the people who tell me I do too much and I should learn how to say no, what if I had told you no?

To the friends who pick up the phone and call for no reason except to hear my voice and tell me to have a good day, thank you.  You know who you are.

If you borrowed it and brought it back, thank you.
If you borrowed it and did not bring it back, keep it

If I offended you, I apologize.
If you offended me, I forgive you.

Some of you will read this and assume I am nuts.  So be it.  We all have opinions.  They are just like butt holes, we all have them.
Some of you are sure it is not you I mean.
Some of you will think, oh, I should call her for no reason.  Don't bother.  Just write it off to Lou having a bad day.

Some of you will have no clue what I am talking about.

Whatever, just wait and see if October 1 brings a change.  If you call and I do not answer after that day, you will know you did not make the cut!

R-E-S-P-E-C-T spells what?

As I zero in on the end of my journey, I am beginning to get pretty excited about the next mile or so.  I look around at my world and wonder what in the hell happened.  All of my life I have been taught and knew as a fundamental law that my elders were to be respected.  And the elder they were the more respect they were due.  My mother worked all her life to give me life.  I owed her respect for that if for no other reason.  My father did not work, but I still respected him for the simple reason he was my father.  When I was young, that was my world.  I would never have dreamed that the day would come when I would watch young people elbow in ahead of me in a line at the grocery store.  If someone opens a door I am planning to go through I fully expect to walk through it, not be knocked out of the way by some snot nosed kid as he passes me on his way in or out.

Seems like this all pretty well started back in the '60's when Vietnam was in full swing.  It was then that people began to dig into our government and find secrets that were being hidden.  I can remember hearing Vietnam when I was a mother with only 4 kids back in 1965.  How long it lasted is beyond me because when I moved to Colorado in 1973 they were publishing the death count on the news every day.  Jane Fonda was making waves and flags were burning.  The government lost all credibility.  From Richard Nixon and Watergate to  Ted Kennedy and Chappaquiddick our leaders turned out to be mortal men.  Televangelists were not immune either.  Bobby and Tammy Faye Baker and their falling empire led to Jimmy Swaggert and and a host of others.  Seems like every one had a secret to hide.  It has not stopped.  The few honest politicians are few and far between and have given rise to the saying, "You can send an honest man to Washington, but you can't get him back."

Seems like the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.  Honesty does not count for anything any more.  An honest day's work for an honest day's pay is non-existent.  We used to get hand me downs from the people on the other side of town, but now Goodwill, Thrift Shops, Consignment Shops are the norm.  Those and yard sales.  Days of sewing our own clothes are history.  Fabric to sew a garment costs more than going to Walmart and buying  something that was made in Tiawan or China.  That is sad.

The information super highway lets us watch the news as it is happening.  That really came across when we were bombing Baghdad.  The rockets red glare has a whole new meaning.  Schools will soon be obsolete because kids are blessed with a smart phone as soon as they can grasp an object.  Want to know something, just type in your question and the answer will appear.  Is this a good thing?  I don't think so, but no one asked me.

So I am going to work on my bucket list and let the world go by at the speed of light.  I will still respect my elders, though they are getting harder to find as I get older.  Guess I am just getting soured on life as I miss the days when deals were sealed with a hand shake and lawyers were used to write your will.  For now I am going to set on my deck out back and look for the Blue Moon which is supposed to be very bright.  At least the moon is still something I can count on seeing.

Hot days make me remember Momma.

Seems we are enduring another 100 degree day.  I can hear the central air and feel it blowing on my legs.        Makes me wonder what we did back home on Strong Street.  I do not even remember us having a fan.  I can remember going to Bull Creek and wading.  I can remember running down a sandy road to a sand pit somewhere.  I knew how to swim up until the time I was 15 years old and I fell over an underground ledge in Sterling Lake and had to be resuscitated.  No more swimming for me.  I did go to the YWCA and take swimming lessons just long enough to learn how to save myself.  I have never overcome my fear of water, but I have learned how to live with it.  I do not get myself into a situation where I am going to need to do the roll over on my back and float technique.  I just stay out of the water.

So what did my dear mother do to cool off on hot days?  Back in those days she cleaned houses for ladies in town.  She walked to work and then walked home.  Pretty sure she did not stop off at  the sand pit for a dip.  I can recall laying by the window and hoping for a breeze.  That did not happen often.  I remember in 7th grade she had a hysterectomy and she had a bed in the front room.  Seems back then if you were ailing or had an operation you could not recuperate in your bed, but had to be in the front room in case company came.  You never entertained in your bedroom.  It was for sleeping, not visiting.

For those of you who do not know, Kansas and Colorado are different in the way the temperatures fluctuate.  See, here in Colorado, when it starts getting evening and then night, the temperature goes down.  Colorado is not real humid so nights are cool.  In Kansas, the only thing that happens at night is it gets dark.  If it was 90 in the daylight, it is 90 in the dark   And humid!  On a hot day you can climb out of the shower and never know when you got dry.  And that towel you use might as well be tossed in the hamper because it will be sour before it ever air drys.

We cooked on a wood stove so that was added heat.  We did heat the wash water outside in a 3 legged kettle.   When we moved to the big city, that thing was left behind because we were going where there was hot and cold running water and we would never need that again.  Man I wish I had one of those today!  Don't know why, just wish I did.

We did not have dogs growing up.  I know we had a cat because momma had a canary and the cat ate it. A chirping canary can still send me into flashbacks.

I do remember setting on the front porch a lot.  We had two big Catalpa trees out front that shaded the house and gave us something to climb.  The bottom branches were worn smooth from our climbing.  Besides that the beans were what we used for cigarettes when we were playing movie stars.  That and climbing on top of the pig sty's next door and jumping from one to the other was our sole entertainment.  Momma had a fit when she found out we were doing that.  She told us in no uncertain terms that we were probably going to be "et by a hog."  But we weren't.  Would I do that today?  Hell no!  And there was a BlackWidow Spider that lived behind the door of the chicken house.  That could have bit us, too.  We did learn to recognize the web which crackles when you poke it with a stick.  The male is small and the female eats him or feeds him to her babies.  That is creepy.  Oh, and when the Preying Mantis mates, she eats his head.  Learn a lot growing up country.  Glad I never picked up any of those habit.

For now.....